In Greek mythology, Cassandra was a cursed prophetess. She was gifted with prophecy but the curse ensured her predictions would never be believed. Not that it stopped her from speaking out. It behoves all of us to speak out about what is wrong but also about what is right. We can do that in our creativity whether it be prose, poetry or painting. What matters is the message.

Fear scurried like a rabbit on the grass of thought,
those first steps into being, wearing danger’s dress,
in almond colour crooning as if it could deceive;
so was reason charmed, brought doubt in as a guest.

Confusion crept through days now soaked in dreams,
to chop the toasted belly of dark nights,
as stars did spring across the bloated heavens;
sparks of hope still shone above, in distant bright.

Madness digging deep now made eternal mark,
that soup of soured sanity as pure bubbled broth,
where demons stirred in steaming, cruel delight;
revealed the hell where minds bake and are lost.